Misplacement
by Finary Lane
Summary: On orders of S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha Romanova is on a mission to take down the japanese Ghoul restaurant. Lacking in information, she has no idea what to make of the screaming that drifts down to the room where she waits, nor of the strange figure she meets that night. A Tokyo Ghoul/Avengers crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note : RedRosey10 mentioned a lack of Tokyo ghoul/Avenger crossovers on Tokyo Ghoul x Avengers one-shots. So here I am.

 **Misplacement**

by: Finary Lane

It was no question that Natasha Romanova was a beautiful woman. She was all citrus-scented shampoo and dangling diamond earrings when she caught Mirumo Tsukiyama's attention. But that had been three days ago, and now she stood under the water pouring from the shower head of the Ghoul Restaurant. It was a rare and subtle horror that made her shiver under the warm water. Her lemon scent, her shadowy makeup, the entire persona she had made for this operation was being slowly washed and drained away. How clever of them.

Steeling herself against the coming task, she dressed herself in the blouse and pants provided by the Restaurant. She had her tricks, and managed to sneak in a few knives, but with the security and control over her clothing, she hadn't dared risk more. She would have to, at least in part… improvise. She went through a few possible scenarios in her mind, but it was difficult to determine any real plan due to her lack of information.

Indeed, it had been quite some time since S.H.I.E.L.D. had come to know of the Ghoul restaurant. But knowledge about Japan's ghouls was hard to come by, let alone about such a specific and secretive organisation. As if the ghouls themselves weren't secretive enough, what with the masks and the need for secrecy in order for them to hunt, the CCG and the state of Japan both kept tight lids on the information about them and what little was to be found was of dubious origins. For once, S.H.I.E.L.D. could not provide much information.

However, they could provide some. They knew there was a Ghoul Restaurant. And although most members were difficult to track, the Tsukiyamas were… less than subtle. Natasha, as much as she would hate to admit it, was nervous. Frightened, even. They had spent months waiting for information, but the trickle of details was slow and insufficient. She needed to take down the Ghoul Restaurant from the inside on too little information, in a territory she knew too little about and against enemies she understood too little. It was nerve wracking knowing so little, but she would be damned if she let her facade crack.

She observed the windowless hallways they passed bemusedly and refused the offered refreshments, knowing, not from reports but from experience, that they were poisoned. Or at the very least spiked with _something_. She idly wondered if eating a poisoned human would be lethal to a ghoul as she stared at the ceiling. Anytime now.

She waited. And waited. Her eyes had scoured over every surface and she had catalogued every potentially useful bit of knowledge when she finally admitted to herself that she was bored out of her wits. She could barely hear something in the distance, but couldn't make out what it was. Wary of being watched and blowing her cover, she simply listened more closely. It sounded like a scuffle… Perhaps some other human was up and giving a fight. She blanched at the suggestive squelching and scream. Well then. One more human life on her conscience. Joy.

But then another scream came. And another. Soon, there was a cacophony of screaming and the air was vibrant with the tension of massacre. There was no way they had that many people in just one night, right? Of course not, she told herself, that would catch the attention of the CCG far too quickly. Could it be the CCG taking down the Ghoul Restaurant?

"What..." she whispered to herself. Looking around herself, she found that she was no more free to leave as she was an hour ago. No windows, no vents. A single bolted shut door. This was getting unnerving. Something was very, very wrong. She felt like a schoolgirl finding herself in the wrong hallway on the first day of school. Where was everyone? What was going on and why wasn't she at the centre of it?

The sounds died out, but the tension still filled the air. She was trapped. She forced herself to breathe. The door slowly unlocked and opened to reveal a young man standing before.

"Good evening, Frau Romanoff," he bowed dramatically, "Deepest apologies for the wait."

What impatience had found its way into Natasha dissolved as she came to several realizations. First, she had a way out. Second, the man before her was most certainly a ghoul, with that mask covering his face. Third, with that dress and behaviour he must be at least in some way related Mirumo. Shuu, she recalled from a previous conversation with him. It must be his son. She donned her persona with ease as she noticed the blood staining his suit.

"With such sincere apologies, how could I hold it against you? But of course, I must say I was expecting Mirumo, Mr...?"

Playing dumb was a marvellous way of having someone underestimate you.

"Mr. MM, if you please. Now please come this way."

She felt her muscles tense. It was happening now. She would figure out whatever had happened later. She would need to be prepared for the fight coming up. Shuu opened a door and beckoned her forward. She slipped a hidden knife into her hand as she stepped forward.

And felt like a fool as the door closed behind her, leaving her in the empty japanese street, knife blatantly in sight. Taking a look around at the lamp posts and garbage cans littering the street, she put away her knife. As she did so, she noticed another figure slipping out of the same building she came from. He was dressed in black covered in blood and wore a leather mask. A single eye blazing red, he licked blood off his fingers.

A ghoul. And she had thought _she_ had been less than subtle. A righteous hatred bubbled in her gut, surprising her. He must have been the cause of the screaming earlier. And with that much blood...What did he do? Eat an orphanage? Jeez, no wonder the CCG had such a hard time. These people were crazy. And the ghoul before her seemed awfully pleased himself. Their eyes locked. An awkward silence passed.

"Yo," he greeted. More silence.

"Yo..." Natasha returned, her gaze full of judgment and questions.

"...you aren't screaming," he pointed out.

"Indeed not," she replied, unimpressed.

The silence was beyond awkward as neither knew what to make of the other. They would both endanger each other. Neither could walk away easily, nor were they eager for a fight if it wasn't necessary. The masked man broke the silence first again, his thoughts spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"So, um, what are you doing here tonight?"

Natasha wanted to facepalm. Who started small talk in such a situation? Still, she played along, if only to gain new information. Everything about this operation was going sideways, anyways. And with no one around, this was a perfect opportunity to take wheedle out some information while she was alone with a ghoul. She could salvage _something_ from this mess.

"My date took me to this restaurant," she answered.

"Oh," he shuffled awkwardly, "I might have eaten your boyfriend."

Natasha took a moment to be amused by the statement before resolving to waste no more time and struck the stranger in the eye with a small but powerful dose of sedative, catching him off guard. He fell limp in her arms after a few moments.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: It's been a while... Anyway, thank you all for the nice reviews and please enjoy chapter 2!

Chapter 2

Ghouls, Agent Romanova noted to herself, can easily break through handcuffs and chains. She should add that to her report. She stared in bewilderment as the ghoul she met in the alleyway slowly woke, took in his cell and burst through his bindings through sheer physical strength. At least the glass he was behind was of really strong stuff that even the Hulk wouldn't be able to get through. It would hold him back. Hopefully.

The man looked up at her with aware, intelligent eyes. A spark of the awkward man licking blood off his fingers remained in his eyes, but for the most part, he shut down. A cold, unforgiving look entered his eye and she knew the second they made eye-contact that he was going to be tough to crack. They were hard as flint.

She had stripped him of his clothing and mask and replaced them with loose, cotton clothing that would make it difficult to conceal weapons. She had removed his shoes, his tight-fitting outfit... his mask. She held it now in her hand casually, as if she hadn't inspected it with surgical care when she had been out of his sight. It made for a good conversation starter. And once you get them talking, its hard for them to stop.

"Good morning, Mr...?" she trailed off at the end to let him fill in.

The ghoul's only response was a raised eyebrow. He seemed unimpressed by her tactics. His lips were sealed for now. Sighing, Natasha tried a different approach.

"Why," she asked, "do you wear this?"

The ghoul's eyes locked onto his mask more quickly than Natasha thought was healthy. She had expected he would think of his mask the same way she would think of her lemon shampoo, but it seemed she was mistaken. If the twitching in his eye was any indication, he was angry that she had it. Much angrier than when he found himself captured.

He really should know better than to get attached to his mask.

The ghoul rose to his full height, a glare in his eyes as crimson overtook one of them. Natasha found it off-putting. The ghoul she had seen in alley had been all leather, blood and apathy, his human eye hidden from the world. He had been a monster in every sense of the word. But under the harsh neon light and dressed in pale cotton, one eye cruel and the other sad, Natasha was unsure what to think. She didn't like the strange position. She liked knowing what to make of the situation, knowing what to do. With ghouls, _this_ ghoul, every move seemed wrong.

Natasha liked protocol. Protocols told her what to do so that things wouldn't go awry. And if things did go awry, protocol had a backup plan, because it knew the probability of protocol being followed in the first place was low. But protocol isn't perfect. Because no matter how thought out protocol is, it can't account for some things. You know, the really crazy things that no one dares to actually do. Like hacking the S.H.I.E.L.D. or injecting yourself with unstable super-soldier serum. Or kidnapping a ghoul.

Oh no, thought Natasha to herself, I'm turning into one of them. But, unlike most other Avengers, she would try to follow protocol. And since there was no protocol to follow in this scenario, she would do the next best thing: calling Nick Fury.

It took Tony Stark 2 cups of coffee before he noticed that he hadn't even made coffee that morning. He blinked drowsily up at someone pouring him a third cup. That was weird. When did they hire a housekeeper? He downed the third cup of coffee. Damn it was good coffee. It also gave him the clarity he needed to realize that if they had a housekeeper, he would know about it. And they most certainly did not. He scrunched his eyebrows together. White haired chinese guy. Nope, it didn't ring any bells.

"Who are _you?_ " he asked.

The man paused, placing a hand on his chin as if deep in thought. Then, he leaned close to Tony placing his elbows on the table.

"Your worst nightmare," he said, dead serious, and straightened up again.

Tony cocked an eyebrow even higher.

"Kidding," the stranger added almost as an afterthought.

"Jarvis!" called Tony, eager to have his AI intervene.

No response.

"Jarvis?" He was getting a bit anxious. Where was his AI?

"I swear that brilliant mind of yours turns to mush during the night," Natasha called from the door frame. "You flew in last night on Fury's orders. You are to help me with my latest _problem._ And no, Jarvis is not here because we are currently in an old Japanese complex with no internet wiring."

Tony choked on his coffee.

"What? We are in one of the most technologically advanced cities in the _world_ , and you're telling me that there's no _internet?_ No _Jarvis_?"

Natasha's lip twitched at his despair and commented no further. The new guy filled his cup again.

"And you! Who are you and what are you doing here?!"

The asian man put down the coffee. He picked up a glass from the sink and started wiping it clean as he spoke in a casual but slightly broken English.

"My name Kaneki Ken, but can call me also Mukade. Miss Romanoff knock me out and bring me here." He finished polishing his glass before placing it in a cupboard. Tony turned to Natasha who sat down, perfectly stoic.

"You kidnapped him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation.

"And you are probably trying to get information out of him for some reason if he hasn't been harmed yet," he said.

"I was."

"So why," he wondered, "would you need _me_? I'm not into all this spy/torture business, you know that."

Natasha breathed deeply.

"I was not successful," she spoke slowly, "and so I contacted Director Fury."

Tony blinked at her.

"So?" he asked.

"So, as I was describing the situation, I mentioned how easily he freed himself of his bonds... And how this far out and as strange as he is, he probably doesn't have any affiliation with Hydra or Loki..."

"...And Fury decided he wanted him in the Avengers."

Natasha had the urge to smile a goofy kind of smile, nod her head obnoxiously and reply "Yu-p" while popping the "p". But she settled for a single slow nod.

"And you need me to convince him because you tried to _torture_ _him_ , didn't you?"

Another nod.

Tony slumped in his seat.

"It's too early in the morning for this."

He sniffed himself and was repulsed by the smell.

"But first I need a shower."

"You need to familarise yourself with this report before doing anything else," said Natasha as she plopped a pile of papers in front of him.

"Oh come on! This is going to take forever and I smell like socks! Right, Kaneki?"

The man that had returned to his dishes looked over his shoulder at them.

"No worry, Stark-san, you smell like hamburger dropped in cologne. Not the most appetizing, but not the worst either." Natasha and Tony briefly paused.

"In any case, I have business to tend to," said Natasha, "I should be back in two hours top. And I don't care whether you've taken your shower or not as long as the place is in one piece, Kaneki is breathing and that report has been read. Am I clear?"

"You're leaving me too? With him?" he pointed towards Kaneki. "He just compared me to a hamburger!"

But Natasha paid it no mind, already heading out the door.

"Take care, Stark," she called out behind her before leaving them.

Tony stared at the white-haired man in horror as Kaneki smiled back innocently.

It was going to be a long morning. Oh well, thought Tony to himself, at least I have some damn good coffee. He held his cup out to Kaneki for a refill, who was happy to oblige.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hot, scalding water rinsed the last of the bubbles of Tony Stark's form. He stepped out onto the bathroom tiles where he his reflection stared back at him from a small, grimy mirror. He grinned to himself when he noticed that the water had been so hot that for a moment after he stepped out, a bit of steam drifted off of his skin. Meaning he was still _smoking_ _hot._ He grinned appreciatively before brushing his teeth and combing his hair.

Inspecting his teeth after brushing, Tony noticed they were still a bit yellow. Stained, he thought. It's probably the coffee. He pushed out more toothpaste onto the brush and passed it over his teeth again, hoping it would be enough to get them stark white again. No such luck.

Nevertheless, his hair and clothes could still be perfect. Tony finished getting ready and observed his appearance once more. A strand of his hair drooped awkwardly onto his forehead. He tried pushing it back, but it just flopped back in place. Pouring a bit of gel onto his hand, he tugged the strand back with expert is a smiled in satisfaction at his appearance. He felt so much better than he had that morning.

Recalling the asian man's earlier comment, he sniffed himself self-consciously. _I don't smell like hamburger and cologne, right?_ As far as he could tell, he didn't. _Of course not, he was just teasing. Yeah._

A boom resounded from a few floors down, sending slight tremors through the walls. That didn't sound good. He had left Kaneki on the bottom floor of the underground facility since it was the most secure. Although he had argued with Natasha about it, he had flipped through the file before jumping into the shower. If he hadn't been wary before reading it, he was now. A shiver threatened to crawl down his spine as he recalled the part where the man barely past childhood ate human flesh.

The sound wasn't big enough that Kaneki could have gotten past the barriers and out of Floor 22D. It was a pointlessly complicated way of naming floors, and the facility was so complicated to get around and the floor numbers so weirdly named that it not only confused Stark, it had also confused nearly everyone to set foot inside of it, be they employee, visitor or prisoner. The numbers, as far as Tony could tell, referred to different positions and the letters referred to the depths. Not in order though, or anything remotely sensible like that. Tony's inner perfectionist cringed at the thought of the map he had seen earlier. But he could tell that Floor 22D was the most secure and very little could blow it open short of the damned Tesseract.

He sighed as he climbed into an elevator in defeat. The doors dinged shut. There was no way that there was no damage, and Natasha was going to be very upset with him for leaving Kaneki alone so long. Especially since it was to fix his hair. After passing from elevator to stairs and back to elevator, Tony slipped into Floor 22D carefully. What was the man- the _ghoul-_ doing? Most of the floor was open concept, although there were plenty of simimulated safety precautions. Only a few bedrooms and a bathroom were behind walls. The room was safe, and most of all, it was easy to keep track of Kaneki's actions. Well at least it should have been.

The bedroom doors were locked and shut, there was no way he was in either and the door to the bedrooms were unmarred, while the bathroom door swung gently on its hinges, revealing its empty guts. No one there. He glanced around the room. The kitchen corner was empty. The table was empty. The lounge corner was empty.

"Good morning, Stark-san," whispered someone in his ear.

Tony Stark did not scream. He did not jump a foot into the air. He wasn't caught off-guard. These were all claims that Natasha would later refute when she pulled out the security reel. Tony whirled around to the white-haired ghoul, nerves on end. He hadn't noticed it that morning, but Kaneki's smile was a tad wider than normal and a bit feral. What he had interpreted as a friendly smile now looked like the cheshire grin the cat who ate the mouse. The comparison did nothing to ease his nerves. But he was Tony Stark, for Pete's sake. He handled dozens of reporters everyday, he was a Casanova extraordinare. If he started lacking confidence now, he would be damned.

"Good morning, Kaneki," he managed, "I heard a noise down here. What happened?"

Kaneki managed to look simultaneously sheepish and condescending for a moment.

"I don't know what you mean," he answered lowly, looking Tony in the eye. Although Tony had intended on questioning him further, he found his breath breath caught in his throat at the eye contact. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he subconsciously took a step back. This was ridiculous. It was just a kid, relatively harmless so far. According to Natasha's file, he had barely been aggressive towards Natasha even after she had knocked him out, drugged him, taken him prisoner, probably tortured him and offered no explanation for her actions whatsoever. Although he couldn't be certain on that last one, he knew Natasha was tight-lipped enough that she was uncomfortable revealing important information to the people she was _supposed_ to inform, let alone a prisoner. There was no way Kaneki knew anything.

 _'_ _Non-aggressive' is a misleading word,_ thought Tony as Kaneki wrapped an arm around him in a friendly manner. He calmed his breathing and pretended he wasn't bothered. After all, Fury apparently wanted him on the team, and it wasn't as if Natasha was the one who was going to make him feel welcome. He couldn't quite shake the discomfort he felt as Kaneki led him into the kitchen, though.

"Skipped the cologne today?" he stated more than asked. "You smell better than before."

Yeah... No. Tony couldn't do this. The kid made good coffee, but his sheer creepiness made it barely worth it. And the way his arm wrapped around his shoulders felt eerily familiar. Almost like... he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He moved to slip out of Kaneki's grasp discreetly, but the grasp of the small teenager was surprisingly strong. And that's when he put his finger on it. _It's like getting hugged by Steve..._ Tony was not reassured at the prospect of being at the mercy of a man-eating teenager as strong as a super-soldier.

"Stark-san must be hungry," said Kaneki, "Lunch?"

Tony glanced at his watch. It was 9:10. Much too early for lunch. In fact, he had eaten barely an hour ago.

"No. No, that's alright, Kaneki," he said quickly. Kaneki looked him up and down and Tony somewhat regretted spending so much time getting ready that morning and putting in so much effort to look nice. They were in the kitchen section now between the two parallel counters running all the way to the wall and making a U-shape around them. Very practical for accessing all the counter space as quickly as possible when cooking. Also very useful for blocking Tony's escape without passing through Kaneki himself. Joy, thought Tony humourlessly.

Kaneki pressed Tony into the counter next to the sink, letting his hand drift over Tony's arms in with deceptively gentle touch that Tony still couldn't break free from. The unnatural steel gaze, the wandering touches, the way he seemed to breathe in a little more deeply when he came close, all of it made Tony uncomfortable. _Is this what the women I hit on feel?_ He hoped not. _What do I do?_

Suddenly, he felt Kaneki stiffen. The limbs that had been drifting closer were frozen. The eyes over which had hung heavy lids were now wide open in fright. He scrambled off of Stark so quickly that Tony didn't even see him. Before he knew it, the teenager had climbed onto one of the rafters in the opposite corner of the room, hissing like a cat or a wild animal.

Tony breathed in relief as he stood up properly. He looked around for what could have scared the ghoul so badly. His eyes finally rested on the sink next to him, where a house centipede seemed to have out. It was pretty disgusting, yeah, but Kaneki's reaction was a bit extreme. Tony shuffled around the cupboards and came up with a jam jar into which he manage to trap the centipede after some difficulty and sealed it shut. The insect climbed about the inside of the jar in discontent.

"This? Really, Kaneki?" he said.

Kaneki paled, somehow whiter than his hair, and retreated further into the shadows with a pathetic, stifled sound. Tony almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

Meanwhile, he held the jar to his chest lovingly.

"My saviour," he sighed, as the centipede wriggled inside.


End file.
